Sowmya Hiremat

The soft stories of
Gentle connections 
Is a mystery to me
How they are so
Calm even in anger 
Or composed in
Sadness is quantum
Physics to me.

I know broken vases
Cracks in the wall
Deafening silence
Anxious fear & scarring
Screaming. All contacts
Are warfare where you
Fight to be safe n wait
For the storm when it
Has gotten quiet

Soft laughter & loving
Conversations at dinner
Gentle tucking into bed 
Warm hugs with hot 
cookies baking & milk
Sunday afternoon giggles
Slow long baths & bedtime
Stories bringing sleep
Sweet as apples baked in
Honey - a surprise for 
The kid who loved pies.

But I know words that 
Are swords wielded to
Cut down my autonomy 
To reduce self worth to
Dust and it taste like ash
That makes me forget 
Days of a week. The glare
Of impending terror & a
Racing mind that tried so
Hard to protect me from 
The fear, has problems 
With peace. 

I am warrior who can’t
Stop fighting for I learnt
Love is destruction &
A ruin to ruminate in. A
Harsh reality, a deep 
Wound that festers & 
Poisons all moments of
Life. Turning all experience 
Into a moldy muslin cloth
Of memory that seemed
Happy but feels terrible..
N leaves me rushing &
In frenzy of the swirling 
Merry go round of pleasing.

So yes I am stranger to
This land of safety. I know
Not the way of this world
And I wonder at times is
It hurting me more than 
It is healing me. But I am
Slowly learning to trust
The process. That reality
Sometimes can be more
Than one thing and that
Change is true and it can
Happen. The possibility 
Of turning the page is 
Not a myth, I am realizing
But is an option I have
And a choice that was
Always there but hidden
From me. Now I see that
Privilege Is also FOR ME.
And I am greatful for it.